


When the Darkness Descends

by Stray_Lilly



Category: Stray Kids (Band)
Genre: Additional Tags to Be Added, Alternate Universe - Apocalyptic/Dark Fantasy, Anal Sex, Blood and Gore, Blow Jobs, Conflict, Death, Elements of Horror, Forced Cohabitation, Graphic descriptions of violence, Guns, Heavy Angst, Human Experimentation, Knives and Other Weapons, Light Bondage, M/M, Mentions of harsh corporal punishment, Non-Consensual Sexual Content, Non-Consensual Voyeurism, Recreational Drug Use, Rimming, Supernatural/Paranormal Events, Unhealthy Relationships, consensual sexual content, serious injury
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-18
Updated: 2021-02-05
Packaged: 2021-03-09 01:55:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 3
Words: 20,348
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27086695
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Stray_Lilly/pseuds/Stray_Lilly
Summary: It started with an earthquake. Magnitude 4, the scales had said – at least according to the news reports the next day. Harmless, really. It would have been nothing out of the ordinary, if the earthquake hadn’t travelled like a rippling wave. From one city to the next, from one country to the next, across oceans, over the mountains, the ground shook. Later, there would be tales that told of the cracks in the earth that had opened up like doorways, letting through something otherworldly – a Darkness that fed on fear, set on devouring the world.
Relationships: Bang Chan/Lee Minho | Lee Know, Changbin/?, Hyunjin/?, Jisung/?, Lee Felix/Yang Jeongin | I.N, seungmin/?
Comments: 24
Kudos: 47





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hello!   
> Please make sure that you read the tags very carefully before continuing 💕  
> Also, take note that tags may change and tags may be added. There are many question marks in the relationship tags for this reason. Like always, I have absolutely no idea where this story is heading so it will all be a surprise to me as well. If you choose to continue, enjoy 💗

**Amery City**

It started with an earthquake. Magnitude 4, the scales had said – at least according to the news reports the next day. Harmless, really. And it would have been nothing out of the ordinary, if the earthquake hadn’t travelled like a rippling wave. From one city to the next, from one country to the next, across oceans, over the mountains, the ground shook. Later, there would be tales that told of the cracks in the earth that had opened up like doorways, letting through something otherworldly – a Darkness. 

This Darkness clung to the air, curling up into the sky, a dark mass blocking out the sun. And so what followed were seven days of darkness. At first the Darkness had simply rested above them, either getting itself accustomed to its new surroundings, or just giving them time to take in its presence. And then there were the worldwide blackouts. World travelled by mouth, by those who dared to venture out, rumors of the origin of the Darkness, so many wild claims, even though no one knew anything for certain. But then the Darkness began to make its move, drifting down towards them like a flimsy sheet carried by the wind. Shapes formed, drifting, probing,  _ seeking _ . But no one knew what the Darkness desired. Those who stepped outside of their homes, curious about their strange visitor, never returned. And when the Darkness began to retreat – or so, they thought at the time – people rejoiced. Sucked back into the cracks of the earth, they said, gone – a natural phenomenon that had passed.

In their bout of joy, no one mentioned the missing ones, the ones that the Darkness had taken, had claimed for itself. No one mentioned the silence from the government. No one mentioned that the electricity had yet to switch on. And so, no had expected the first attack. They definitely hadn’t expected the curveball the Darkness had thrown their way – their own loved ones used as conduits for the Darkness. 

After the first attack there were three things they learned about the Darkness. One – that it only claimed the strongest to be in its service, and used the weak for recreation. Two – that it changed people – turned them into the stuff of nightmares, the monsters that you thought lived under your bed when you were a kid. Three – that some people were lucky and couldn’t be taken by the Darkness –  _ Immunes _ . The Darkness couldn’t touch Immunes. But that was why it needed its Servants – to hunt them down. 

No one knew what the Darkness wanted, whether it had an objective. All they knew was that it thrived on chaos and sorrow and fear. And Hyunjin had experienced all of those things. The day his parents got taken… When he’d spent nearly two days hidden in his closet. When his closet door had been ripped off its hinges and his mother had stood over him, an ear-to-ear grin on her face. 

“Mom,” he’d said, half hopeful, half terrified out of his wits.

But the thing that had been his mother had shaken her head full of curls and said in that painfully familiar voice soaked in the sweetest honey, “I’m not your  _ mother _ . I’m a  _ Servant _ .”

He’d seen her teeth then, jagged pieces of metal jutting from her gums, the last he’d seen of her before she lunged for him, talons slashing the air. Hyunjin had run.

He’d been on the run for four years before he arrived in Amery. Ten months later and although he’d been drifting from group to group, he was almost ready to call the city home, but now…

The asphalt was hardly visible; chunks of rubble from obliterated buildings that had been weathered into dust, now settled like a fine blanket over the roads. Hyunjin’s boots had left a long trail of prints in the sand, and he was momentarily reminded of summers spent at the beach. It felt like a lifetime ago. Family picnics, school trips, promises made to friends that once they graduated high school they’d make a yearly trip to the beach. Promises he never got to keep. He never got to graduate high school – none of his friends did. He wondered where they were now. Alive? A few of them at least? Surely?

He jerked his head as if to shake the thought away. There was no use dwelling on the past, not when the present demanded so much from him. He took a deep breath, letting the air slowly leave his lips as he surveyed his surroundings, the damage, the absolute carnage. “Fuck,” he whispered. The Darkness and its Servants had enjoyed themselves last night. They had feasted and rejoiced, as if they could sense their victory was near, as if they could sense the end of the human race.

From behind a pile of fallen debris, porcelain fingers splayed outstretched, as if beckoning to him. Hyunjin debated walking away and eyed the group of people who could still be heard sobbing, mourning their losses. His eyes drifted to the limp hand again, an invisible force latching onto him, forcing him to approach with some caution. He clenched his jaw as he studied the fatal injuries the woman had incurred. Nothing new. He’d seen this a million times in the past five years, and yet… Something was different, something that ignited his curiosity.

The skin had been seared off her face to reveal charred bone beneath, the flap of skin over her scalp peeled backwards, her dark hair flecked with bits of flesh and bone. Her mouth was open in a silent scream, teeth missing – taken as souvenirs most likely, fashioned into jewellery that the Servants wore proudly. A clean-cut rip tore through her bare torso, splitting the skin open into to reveal pink flesh like stuffing ripped out of an old couch. And there, just beneath the skin was a… Hyunjin cocked his head to the side, assessing. Something swollen beneath her skin. A small lump of something. He pressed two fingers over the bulge. Something solid, then. 

He cast a glance over his shoulder, watching for anyone who might approach, because how the fuck would he explain what he was doing? He winced as he slid his fingers into the bloody crevice of flesh. Nausea eddied in his gut at the warm, wet, slimy feeling of intestines and blood and mucus. And then his knuckles brushed against metal. His breaths quickened as he withdrew his hand to look at the object enclosed in his palm. 

And when he saw it – when he saw the necklace – he couldn’t help himself. He keeled over, emptying the meagre contents of his stomach. Tears mixed with the sweat that poured down his face. 

Footsteps sounded behind him and he hid both necklace and his bloody hand in the pocket of his hoodie. He rose to his feet as the distraught remnants of his group crowded around the body, weeping. 

“What will we do without her?” one of them asked, hysterical. A middle-aged woman, who Hyunjin knew was prone to flying into a panic at the slightest provocation. “Without an Immune with us we don’t stand a chance!”

The panic was justified this time. Hyunjin knew it was true. No group stood a chance of survival against the Darkness without an Immune. The Darkness itself wouldn’t dare approach the general vicinity of an Immune. Rather, it would send its Servants. Servants who loved to destroy, to kill, to revel in misery. But as monstrous as they were, they at least could be killed. 

Hyunjin had a choice to make now. He could assimilate himself into another group, offer whatever skills he could. Or maybe… Maybe it was time to move on from Amery. Maybe Amery’s time was up. His wasn’t the first group in the city to lose their Immune in the past two weeks. The nightly attacks were becoming more frequent, more ferocious. As if the Darkness had grown tired of playing. As if it was yet to unleash its full might. And those in Amery were about to get the first taste of it. He looked down at the necklace in his palm and swiped a finger over the blood-crusted ring attached to it. He’d initially thought the Darkness had meant to taunt him with it.

But maybe it was a warning.

**The Estate**

“Seven days,” Felix whispered, recalling how long it had taken before the world went to shit. Before his life was upturned. He shifted onto his side, an arm slung over the side of the bed, drawing invisible shapes onto the floor. Had it really been five years since then? Sometimes it felt like an eternity had passed, and sometimes it felt as if it was just yesterday that they’d been on the run, searching for safety, for some semblance of hope. He groaned and sat up, running his fingers through his dark hair. Fuck it. He couldn’t sleep.

He stepped out onto the porch, watching as Minho raised the axe above his head, bringing it down to split the log cleanly into two even pieces. He didn’t pause to wipe the bead of sweat that slid down his temple, nor did he show any inclination to shield himself from the glare of the sun. Instead, he moved on to another log, his jaw clenched in determination, eyes focused. Again, the log was split perfectly into two. In the barrow at his feet there was enough wood to last two days, but he never slowed until the barrow was full. With a quick sweep of his surroundings, he hefted the barrow up the hill. 

Minho was strong, Felix realized, but he never seemed to be aware of his strength. Or perhaps he never thought it necessary to boast about it. Always dressed in baggy t-shirts and sweatpants, except for dinner where he donned something more formal, it was difficult to make out the muscle that corded his arms. Felix still remembered the stuttering, lanky boy he’d grown up with, so different from the strong man who approached him now. 

Minho regarded him with a curious stare as he lugged the barrow onto the porch. “I thought you were taking a nap.” 

Felix lifted a shoulder in a half-shrug, “Just a bit restless. Tomorrow will be exactly five years since – since everything started. Did you know?” Minho nodded, and cocked his head to the side, waiting for Felix to get to the point. Felix knew that Minho lacked in patience so he went on, “Actually, I was thinking…” he hesitated. There were still a few hours until sunset, so  _ surely _ Minho wouldn’t object. “I’m going for a walk since you don’t need me around here for anything.”

Minho glanced at the watch strapped onto his wrist – time was important, always – and pulled his lower lip between his teeth, his fingers brushing away sweat-soaked raven locks from his forehead. “I don’t know, Lix. It’s late. And Chan will be home soon anyway.”

And it irked Felix that Minho would mention the very thing that had been bugging him for the past hour. So he found himself snapping at his brother, releasing the anger and frustration that he’d been trying to keep on a leash, “What does that have to do with  _ me _ ? As if I’m the one he’s actually fucking. He’s no one to—”

“Enough,” Minho hissed, his chest rising and falling with seething anger. “Watch your mouth, Felix. We wouldn’t be here if it weren’t for him. We wouldn’t be  _ here _ ,” he gestured to their surroundings with a sweep of his hand for emphasis. “So I won’t tolerate these childish tantrums all the fucking time. For fuck’s sake, you’re an adult! Grow up and learn to appreciate anyone who puts a roof over your head and food on your table.”

Felix struggled to come up with a response. He stood with his hands dangling at his sides, feeling more childish by the second. It was true. Everything Minho said was true. Chan had opened his doors to them, and moreover, Chan was an Immune. Nothing could hurt them when he was around. Felix did appreciate that. Truly, he did. And there had been a time where Felix and Chan had gotten along tremendously well. It had almost been like having a family again. But then Minho had started warming Chan’s bed and Felix got pushed onto the side-lines by both of them. 

Years had passed but it still grated on his nerves every time he saw them being affectionate with each other, every time they settled into a conversation without him, every time they closed their bedroom door to wait out the night – the Darkness – together. Felix was always alone. And over time his loneliness had augmented his bitterness, turning him into this loathsome thing that wished ill on his brother. It was wrong, he knew. He didn’t want to feel this way, but he was just… so lonely.

Perhaps his despair reflected on his face, because Minho’s expression softened, “Alright, go. You know where  _ not _ to go. And make sure you’re back in time for dinner.” 

Felix’s pride stopped him from thanking Minho. Why did he need to be grateful for being allowed to stroll around the estate anyway? He wasn’t a prisoner, and like Minho said, he was an adult. He didn’t need permission. He pushed past Minho and took off on a brisk walk. He could feel Minho’s eyes on him as he disappeared down the hill.

The estate spanned over several acres of land, most of it dense with forestation. It had taken Felix over a year to learn where the hidden footpaths were, to learn which shrubs hid snares and more importantly, how to find his way back to the mansion. During his first year at the estate he’d gotten lost on more than one occasion. But Chan and Minho had always found him, sometimes covered in muck where he’d slipped and rolled into a wet patch of mud, or stuck going in circles around the same cove of trees. 

He hurtled down a steep hill, almost losing his footing on a loose patch of soil. On even ground again, he spotted the two old maples – his markers – standing sentinel to the thicket of trees that hid the stream from sight. Even without his markers he would have found the stream; it made a gurgling noise as the water trickled over rocks and slurped into the pipe system that Chan had created to transport water back to the mansion. 

A thick canopy of leaves formed a roof overhead, and the sunlight that managed to penetrate the thin gaps, cast golden beams across the water. Bright yellow and orange leaves floated upon the surface of the stream like beautiful flickering flames dancing on the ripples. Felix sat cross-legged at the edge of the stream, skimming his fingers over the surface. On some mornings he liked to bathe there, of course without anyone’s knowledge. If they ever found out about his visits to the stream…

Just a few metres away was a barbed fence cutting through the stream. The periphery of the estate. Although the entire area outside the estate was almost impossible to navigate if you didn’t know it well, they had still found some unsavoury people climbing the fence every now and then, unaware that they were trespassing on private property. Unintentional or not, trespassers weren’t tolerated and it never ended well. This was why Felix had been expressly prohibited from visiting this part of the estate. It was too dangerous, they told him. But so far, he’d never come across anyone while out there on his own.

Felix liked being there, liked the murmurs of the stream, the birdsong, the buzz of insects as they observed him from their hideaways, the colors – greens, oranges, reds, yellows. There he felt a million miles away from the shithole the world had become. He closed his eyes and breathed in the serenity, basking in the moment of peace he’d procured for himself.

He wasn’t sure how long he’d been sitting with his eyes closed, but they opened a second before cold metal pressed against his temple. A wave of iciness staked Felix’s chest and his body began to tremble with fear. He could feel the heat radiating from someone’s crouched body, someone who had soundlessly crept up behind him and now held a gun to his head. He tried to speak, to at least try to talk his way out of this situation but his breathing grew ragged, the words stuck in his throat.

A whisper sent a shiver down Felix’s spine, “Are you just going to sit there and wait for me to kill you?” The voice was soft yet hoarse like his attacker was in dire need of water. A traveller then, Felix gathered. Someone who’d travelled a long way. Someone who needed food and lodgings. 

He stared straight ahead and tried to keep his voice steady when he answered, but his words came out in an incoherent mess, “I – if you need – I can help. I mean food. A place to stay – if that’s what you want – I…” he trailed off, waiting to hear the man’s demands.

“Will you really?” The man sounded skeptical and slightly amused. “You’ll let me stay up in that big old mansion you have there? Well, that’s pretty strange considering there’s just three of you living in that huge ass space.” Felix tensed. He’d been watching them. “There are plenty of people out there who need a roof over their heads and a safe space to sleep. But you know that, don’t you? You know and you people don’t give a fuck.”

Felix winced at the accusation. He could see how it looked to outsiders and it was his guilt that emboldened his response, “It’s not  _ my _ place. I just… I got lucky. My brother and I. But the guy who owns this estate,  _ Chan _ – well, we can’t really tell him what to do, can we? He doesn’t want anyone else here and there’s nothing I can do—”

“Nothing you can do? So, you’re a liar then. You weren’t going to help me.”

The gun fell away from Felix's temple and grass crunched as his attacker rose to his feet. Felix twisted around to get a look at the man, unable to mask his surprise. He had to be young – perhaps even younger than Felix. His russet brown, shaggy hair brushed the collar of his blue denim jacket and a healed scar rested on his left cheekbone. His tapering eyes narrowed as he pointed the gun down at Felix. 

“Get up. Let's see whether they'll give up their fancy home for your life.”

Felix almost laughed. “If you think Chan is going to bat an eyelid when he sees you pointing a gun at my head, you're mistaken. He wouldn't give a damn. He has my brother and that's enough for him. He'd let you kill me and then thank you for it because it's one less mouth to feed. And then you know what he'll do? He'll bury your body on the grounds with all the others who’d tried to take this place from him.” He could see the young man's jaw working as he considered everything Felix said. “But I can help you. I want to.” And that was the truth. There was no way that Felix would turn away someone who needed help. He wasn't as heartless as Chan and Minho. 

“You shouldn’t have let him go out by himself. He could’ve gotten hurt.”

Minho let the accusation sink in while he cut an apple into thin slices. “He’s not a child.”

Chan piled grilled strips of meat – deer from his most recent hunt – onto a plate. Dinner today would be modest, but they’d had a good breakfast – slow-cooked figs, eggs and slices of cheese with toast in their fireplace-turned-oven. “He’s not a child but he can’t take care of himself either. Man or child, there’s no difference anymore. I’ve seen seven year olds learning how to hunt, and I’ve seen grown men shitting themselves.”

More force than necessary went into the next slice, and Minho winced when the jagged blade of the knife slammed into the granite counter. “No one likes being cooped up inside. You can’t blame him for wanting to leave.” He scooped up the apple slices and piled them onto another plate before reaching for a pear. 

“So what?” Chan’s voice rose now, “Should we let him leave the fucking estate too? And you know what? You should go with him. I’m sure being cooped up is hard for you too.” Minho froze, glad that his back was to Chan so that he couldn’t see the fear rippling over his face at that veiled threat. Maybe the deafening silence had alerted Chan, or maybe he saw the tension take hold of Minho’s shoulders, but he said quietly, “You know I didn’t mean it like that. I would never…”

Minho gave a slight shake of the head and continued slicing into the pear, suddenly unbothered about the uneven slices. Let them all choke on it and die. No, he didn’t mean that. Not really. He felt Chan’s warm breath a millisecond before he felt his soft, wine dampened lips on his neck. With a sigh, Minho tilted his head back, allowing Chan to paint his cheekbone and jawline with hungry kisses. Minho turned around, his back pressed to the counter, arms wound around Chan’s neck, pulling him closer. Chan didn’t hesitate – he claimed Minho’s throat with a rough suckling bite, forcing a whimper from between Minho’s lips. Fingers found themselves twining through Chan’s mop of dark hair, pulling him closer yet, Chan’s knee wedged between Minho’s thighs, the pressure causing his already half erect cock to strain against the material of his slacks. 

Minho gripped a fistful of Chan’s hair, forcing the man to pull back and look at him. He slowly raised the previously discarded knife, holding it to Chan’s throat. He added the tiniest bit of pressure, letting the jagged edge prick Chan’s skin, a globule of blood trickling down his neck. A small cut, but it stood out starkly against his pale skin. “Did you threaten me just now?” Minho asked, his eyes never leaving Chan’s dark gaze. 

Chan’s lips curved into a smile, and he whispered mockingly, “What you gonna do about it,  _ honey _ ?”

Minho bristled at the endearment and lowered the knife. He held Chan’s gaze for three long seconds, letting him read the warning in his eyes, letting him know that Minho may be dependent on him, but that he was just as dependent on Minho. Satisfied that his warning had been conveyed, Minho allowed a small smile before he pressed his lips to the minuscule cut and then to Chan’s lips, the wet tip of his tongue grazing them before he pulled back. “Tonight,” he said, a silent promise delivered with that word. 

“Can I help with dinner?”

Chan took a quick step away from Minho, a flush creeping up his neck at the sudden intrusion. To be fair to Felix, they were in the kitchen. Minho offered his brother a smile which he didn’t return, “Dinner’s done. Let’s eat and have an early night, alright, Lix?” And Chan’s knuckles grazed his hip at the suggestion. 

Dinner had been quick, set with silence and fraught with tension that none from the trio would dare mention. There was a fragile peace between them, and lately Minho had begun to notice how mercurial Felix had become. Minho had to walk on eggshells around him, in case he lashed out, in case he left. Minho couldn’t let his brother leave. If Felix left the estate…

“You didn’t dress for dinner.”

Fucking Chan. Of course he had to ruin this. Minho’s gaze flicked to Felix, noting now that he hadn’t changed out of his jeans and mud stained t-shirt. As if only realizing this now too, Felix’s eyes widened and his fork cluttered to the plate. “It’s fine,” Minho said quickly, not wanting an argument to break out. “We all forget sometimes.”

Minho clenched his fork tightly in his fist, annoyance bubbling in his chest at the staredown between the two men. “You can’t be serious,” he muttered. “Can we just have one dinner without—”

“I’m not hungry,” Felix cleared his throat and rose to his feet.

“Felix,” Minho warned.

“Ah, so sorry,” Felix turned to look at Chan and offered him a mocking bow. “I hope that makes you feel better.”

“Was that necessary?’ Minho asked Chan when Felix’s footsteps could be heard on the landing above. “You could have just left it alone.”

“We always dress for dinner,” Chan said simply, biting onto a slice of apple, his soft chewing audible in the silence that followed.

Minho knew how Chan had been raised. The estate had belonged to his mother who ran a boarding institute –  _ St. Angelina’s _ – for troubled boys. A reformatory, Chan called it. The boys who had entered the institute were criminals, vagabonds, and some were just ill-disciplined kids. But the men who left were gentlemen. Chan himself had been raised and completed his schooling at St. Angelina’s. That’s why he was so… “Old fashioned,” Minho rolled his eyes, earning a sharp glare from Chan. “You’re forgetting that Felix and I weren’t raised the same way as you.”

“How can I forget?” Chan scoffed, lips tilted in amusement. “You both make it obvious.”

Having had enough, Minho pushed his chair back. “I’m so fucking tired.”

“Wait, I’m sorry,” Chan stopped him, fingers closing around Minho’s wrist. “I have something for you. Trade went well today.” He produced the plastic packet from the inside pocket of his suit jacket, dangling it like bait. 

Minho smiled, swiping the packet from his hand. “Apology accepted.”

Felix had hoped for an argument during dinner and Chan hadn’t let him down. He’d needed a reason to act like the brat they always made him out to be. A reason to make them believe he’d be sulking in his room for the rest of the night. 

He zipped his hoodie as he tramped across the lawn towards the periphery of the woodland area. His heartbeat had quickened at the sight of the sun hanging low over the horizon. He hoped that the man had listened to him, had stuck to the plan. But he’d made it obvious that he didn’t trust Felix. He hadn’t even given him his name. It bugged Felix that he was going out of his way to help a nameless stranger who’d held a gun to his head a few hours ago. But he’d promised his help, he’d promised that he wasn’t like Chan.

He peered between the trunks of two elms, eyes wide as they searched for the stranger. Had he left? Felix’s eyes flicked up to the setting sun and back towards the shadows cast by overhanging branches. He had to hurry. “Hello?”

Felix hesitated again, shielding his eyes from the glare of the sun as he debated whether he had enough time to go looking for the man. But what if he was hurt? What if he’d gotten stuck somewhere or was lost? After all, it had happened to Felix numerous times before. 

Even as he slipped between the trees, Felix felt the urge to turn around, to run. He’d never been out there after sunset. But now as the last light faded, he realized how stupid he was to put his life in danger like this. He kept calling out as he went further in, and when he received no response he decided to just check the stream and then head back. He followed the sound of running water, on the lookout for any sign of the man. And in his haste, he nearly tripped over a rock.

No. Not a rock.

Felix gawked at the stranger who’d propped himself up against a tree-trunk and was now passed out. He crouched down beside the man, scanning for the gun the man had waved around earlier. He made out the faint outline beneath his t-shirt and drew his hand back. Sure, it was safer taking a weaponless stranger back to the mansion, but Felix couldn’t risk the man’s anger and brashness either. And if he caught Felix stealing…

The man’s eyes flicked open a second later and Felix was glad he’d kept his wits about him. “You came back.” The stranger sounded slightly surprised, slightly curious.

“And you fell asleep,” Felix remarked, but not to mock the man. He wasn’t traveling with any bag, any indication that he had supplies – food, clean water… He was probably exhausted. “Let’s go. The sun’s gone.”

The stranger’s eyes widened, and he immediately leapt to his feet. “Fuck,” he swore, looking down at the scratched face of the watch strapped to his wrist. “I didn’t mean to sleep that long.” 

“Your name,” Felix asked as they trudged along, “what is it?” He rolled his eyes when he could see the internal debate raging in the man’s head. Felix was saving his life and he still…

“Jeongin,” he finally offered. “And you said that you’re Felix?” He gave Felix a strange look, as if  _ he _ was the one who’d been behaving questioningly.

Felix nodded, “You haven’t met many kind people?”

Jeongin snorted but didn’t answer. Felix took that as a ‘no’. To fill the silence he began to tell Jeongin about Chan, that he owned the estate, that he was an Immune – Jeongin looked glad about that at least. Felix could understand. He and Minho were on their own for quite some time too before Chan found them, saved them.

“This way,” Jeongin showed him an alternate path to the mansion. A path Felix already knew.

“But that way’s longer,” he objected, shrinking back from the ferocious look on Jeongin’s face. 

But Jeongin took a step closer to him, his lips brushing Felix’s ear as he whispered, “We’re not alone.”

Wide-eyed, Felix scanned the trees but couldn’t make out any movement aside from the leaves shivering in the breeze. But he believed Jeongin. His body had gone rigid, shadows suddenly seeming sharper, everything sounding louder, even the sound of his own breathing accentuated; a primitive survival instinct wormed its way to the surface.  _ Run, run, run, run _ , a voice in his head urged. He hadn’t heard that voice in years. 

He tried not to recoil when Jeongin brushed a finger over his cheek, “They like a show,” he whispered. “Trust me.”

So he let Jeongin take his hand, leading him further into the forest. Felix could feel it now, or maybe it was his mind playing tricks, but he could’ve sworn something lingered in the shadows. A silhouette. There one second and gone the next, along with the flap of wings.

He gasped when Jeongin stopped and shoved him against a tree, burying his face in Felix’s neck. “Bait,” he whispered against Felix’s skin. It was a lure. A trap. But Felix didn’t understand what Jeongin had planned, why he wouldn’t just turn around and shoot the thing – the Servant. Still, Felix carded his fingers through Jeongin’s hair, eyes half closed as he tried to make their little tryst look believable, not daring to push Jeongin away when he slipped his hands beneath Felix’s hoodie, roaming the expanse of smooth skin. He wondered what Jeongin would have thought if Felix told him that he hadn’t been touched that way before.

He maintained the icy calm that had swept over him, even when in his peripheral vision he could see that a bare-chested man had stepped out of the shadows. Long black hair flowed behind him, his lip curling.  _ They like a show _ , Jeongin had said. Felix could see the proof of that – the erection in the man’s flimsy trousers. He began to pant, not because of the teeth nipping at his nape, but because the man was approaching – fast. And he still had no idea what Jeongin planned on doing about it.

He tugged on Jeongin’s hair in urgency, but received only a soothing touch on his hips in return. What the fuck. His eyes flickered to the long haired man again, and this time he couldn’t help the fretful whimper that left his lips.

Because the man – the thing, the  _ Servant _ – had veined wings crinkling like paper as they brushed over branches. And when a long thorn-covered tongue flicked into the air, Felix began to scream.

From their bedroom, Minho and Chan watched the remnants of the sun fade away, the blooming orange glow, reduced to barely visible streaks of light, eventually giving way to the night – and to the Darkness. Minho knew he would be safe inside the bubble he’d built around himself. An Immune to fend off the Darkness, all the weapons they would need, and hands that were more than capable of using those weapons to defend themselves against those who served the Darkness. Still, dread swept over him just as surely as those shadows swept over the estate.  _ Harmless _ , he reminded himself. It had been months since a Servant had wandered onto the estate which lay cloaked by the dense forestation. Even those who lived in the little town miles away from the estate had little trouble with the Servants. It was nothing like in the cities.

Yet he still took a step back from the window because he knew that the Darkness lurked, waited, that it could sense an Immune just out of its reach. Minho glanced around the room to make sure all the oil lamps were lit. They made him feel safer. Satisfied, he removed his bathrobe, and naked, he flopped down onto the bed beside Chan.

He exhaled a lungful of smoke and offered the joint to Chan who shook his head. Prissy bastard. “Let’s fuck,” Minho suggested. “Now.” Because fucking was always the best way to distract from what lurked outside. And now that he had this joint, well… Even better. It had been a long while since Minho smoked – at least two months. Chan must’ve traded quite a bit of that deer. They’d be having more fruit than meat until he went out on a hunt again. It was worth it though.

“And if I don’t want to?”

Minho took another puff, coughing a little as he snorted a laugh, wafts of smoke slipping from between his lips. “Your cock says that you want to.” He traced a finger over Chan’s crotch. “So why aren’t you naked yet?”

Minho bit his lip and hefted his legs higher, offering himself without hesitation or fear. He didn’t care if it hurt. He needed it badly. “What are you waiting for?”

Chan undressed with fire in his eyes, and with practiced motions, he coated his shaft with the lube he’d procured in a trade for a few slices of meat three weeks ago. Not taking his eyes from the spread ass and erection that was already dripping with precum, he said, “You’re such a bitch sometimes.”

“I know,” Minho said. The weed really didn’t help either. “Don’t bother taking it slow. I think you stretched me enough this morning.” Chan rolled his eyes and without another word of warning, three fingers pushed inside Minho’s ass and his spine nearly bent in half. “Fuck.”

Chan was holding the base of his own erection with one hand and using the other to stretch and fuck Minho into oblivion. His fingers spread and curled inside him, rubbing that spot that ripped him open and took away all his control.

He couldn’t hold in his loud moans of pleasure. His pleas. He didn’t let go of his legs but he needed more. “Chan, please. Do it. I need you to fuck me.”

Chan growled as he knelt on the bed, still watching his fingers with hunger in his eyes. “You’re so damn hot. Tell me you want my cock.”

Minho’s cheeks heated but he obliged that ego anyway. “I want your cock. Now.” He felt the tip of Chan’s thick erection and bit his lip so hard he tasted blood. It was always a wonder how he could take it all. Chan gripped his thigh hard enough to leave a bruise and guided himself slowly inside. It was too much all at once. And perfect. Minho couldn’t catch his breath, couldn’t see anything but Chan’s fierce expression as he struggled to follow his muttered commands.

Pure fucking. The cure for everything. Pain so sharp it induced euphoria. Desperation and greed and impatience for more. Chan was going too slow. Being too careful. Like always. Minho let go of his legs and reached for the man above him, fingers digging into firm muscle and hot skin as he pulled him closer. Deeper. “Fuck, yes!”

“Oh you bastard,” Chan swore, grabbing Minho under his knees and lifting until his ankles were resting on his broad shoulders. “You want to make me rush  _ again _ ? In that much of a hurry for it to be over?” He pressed their bodies together, bending Minho in half and teasing him with soft, biting kisses. “You really are shameless, aren’t you? You’ve been dying for my cock ever since it slid out of you this morning. You couldn’t wait for me to cram every inch inside again.”

“Yes, you sexy son of a bitch,” Minho groaned into Chan’s mouth as the man ground against him, rotating his hips in a way that made them both shake and sweat with need. Fuck, where did he learn that? It felt so good. Even before everything, before the Darkness – and Minho glanced towards the window as if he could see that Darkness watching – he’d never been fucked like this. Granted he’d only been twenty, but still, he  _ thought _ he’d experienced it all with the losers he used to hang out with. Apparently not.

His erection was pressing into Chan’s tight stomach with just enough friction to make him needy, but not enough to find his release. He reached for Chan’s hips again but his wrists were caught and dragged over his head.

“Stop distracting me. I’m enjoying all those sexy noises you’re making,” Chan muttered against his jaw. “I want to hear more.”

“Maybe you will if you stop fucking  _ with _ me and actually start fucking me,” Minho gasped, struggling lightly in his hold, close to taking over if he didn’t get what he wanted. “With all the capabilities of your cock, you really aren’t going to give me what I need right now?”

Chan snorted, “Was that a compliment or a challenge?” And when something dangerous crossed his expression, Minho knew he was close to pushing him over the edge. 

“Both, maybe.”

“You know I don’t like hurting you.”

“You know how I like it when I’m high,” Minho countered. And to prove his point, he lifted his head and bit Chan’s neck, sucking hard on the tight salty skin. “Hurt me,” he rasped out, feeling raw and desperate. “Please, come on. I need it.” 

The words caused a tremor to run through the man above him and then –  _ yes _ – then he came unhinged. Chan’s hips began to pound hard and fast against his. The bed shook and creaked beneath them with the force, and Minho cried out with every deep thrust.

_ Yes. Yes, Chan. Fuck me harder. So hard I’ll feel it forever. _

He was shouting unintelligible words, his body struggling to get closer, to reach the climax that was closing in on him. An instinctual race to the ultimate prize. A struggle to get closer to the fire and Minho loved it. Never wanted it to end. “Don’t stop.”

“I’m close.” Chan dropped one hand between their bodies and gripped Minho tight, stroking his hard shaft. “Come with me.”

“Fuck, no, no, no,” Minho moaned. “Not yet, not yet. Make it last.”

Chan’s laugh was filled with lust and a rough satisfaction. “Stop fighting me. You know this isn’t over. Come and we’ll do it again. However many times you want. I need to feel you come on my cock.”

With that promise ringing in his ears he let himself go, coming so hard he lost his voice from shouting Chan’s name. Nothing had ever come close to this feeling. Nothing ever would. He couldn’t find the words or remember his name. Chan stiffened and found his own release, hips jerking and pulsing against Minho.

It took a while to recover. When he did, he glanced at the man beside him, at the arrogant expression on his face – so arrogant Minho wanted to hit him. Or tie him up and have his way with him until he was the one begging for Minho to sit on his cock. Tomorrow maybe. 

Then for a while, they simply stared at each other, both expressionless, both lost in thought. Minho’s lips quirked into a smile when Chan shifted closer, his breath warm on Minho’s lips. He stroked a finger along Minho’s jaw, and Minho in turn brushed away a few sweaty locks from Chan’s face. Someone watching would have mistaken them as a couple in love. But this wasn’t love. Years had passed and there would never be love between them. Minho knew that if they weren’t in this fucked up situation, if their world hadn’t changed, they would never have given each other a second look, probably would never have found themselves in the same room or in the same town for that matter.

“I don’t love you,” Minho suddenly announced. “I actually think I hate you sometimes.” He blamed that one on the weed. Then he burst into a fit of giggles which were not entirely to blame on his intoxicated state. It was just him, just how he was.

Chan took a few seconds to react, his lips eventually quirking into a smile. “I know that. The feeling is mutual.”

“Round two?” Chan asked when Minho didn’t respond, already rolling him onto his stomach and kissing his way down his spine. Minho laughed and before he could say anything, his cheeks were spread and Chan was spearing his still sensitive ass with his tongue.

“Oh fuck!” Minho rose up onto his hands and knees, and Chan’s mouth followed. It was good. Better than it had been before because Minho knew what was coming. “So good,” he panted, spreading his knees apart so Chan could have better access. “Oh fuck, that’s….”

He looked over his shoulder and moaned at the sight of Chan’s face pressed against his ass. “So good,” he rasped. “Don’t stop.” Chan’s tongue was thrusting like a cock inside him and Minho was pressing back, riding it helplessly. Wantonly.

Until his hole clenched around emptiness and he couldn’t feel Chan’s tongue anymore. 

With furrowed brows, Minho looked over his shoulder. Chan had pulled back, staring at their window with narrowed eyes. “I heard…” he clenched his jaw as if he wasn’t quite sure what he’d heard. Before Minho could even react, Chan was sliding on his slacks and reaching for the shotgun beside the bed.

Minho began to panic. He couldn’t hear shit. But he knew the instinct that Chan banked on when he went on a hunt, the predatorily calm and keen sense of hearing that had kept them well-fed. So if Chan thought something was wrong, then something was wrong.

Minho chewed on his lip. Felix’s room was just opposite theirs. He needed to check on him. To make sure he was alright. Because if something happened to Felix… 

He slipped on his robe and tiptoed out into the hallway after Chan. He nodded towards Felix’s his door and Chan frowned, probably noting what Minho had, that no sound came from the room, no light. Asleep maybe. But Felix never slept until well after ten. 

He turned the handle and cringed at squeak of the door. He looked first at the little nook in the corner where Felix liked to sit. And then at the bed – unused, sheets wrinkle-free. Felix wasn’t there. 

Jeongin had whirled around, the perfect picture of surprise, so much so that Felix even in his terror had to admire his acting skills. 

The Servant opened its mouth once more, and Felix braced himself for the sight of that horrid tongue again, but only cold, human words left his mouth, “Typical of your kind,” the creature’s mouth curved into an amused smile, “to think that behind the walls of your estates you are safe, to ignore the hell we’ve unleashed outside your gates and indulge yourselves in pleasure without fear.”

Jeongin had stepped in front of Felix, using his foot to nudge him backwards. Slowly, both backed away from the Servant who stood with the stance of a predator, body hunched, tightly coiled waiting to unleash itself. Felix tried to ignore the webbed hands, the claws, the pulsing slits cut across his chest like gills, the patches of slimy skin sewn into pale human skin – like a quilt sewn with two different fabrics. And the sickening crunch of those wan leathery wings, no longer crumpled but smoothing themselves out, the sound of bone snapping and weaving together again making Felix’s stomach turn. He bit down on the urge to flee, and kept his eyes trained on the Servant, on the dance they were engaged in.

He’d noticed that Jeongin wasn’t prodding him back in a straight line towards the periphery, but rather inching to the side, as if he meant to lead the Servant somewhere. He could see the mirth glinting in the creature’s eyes as it surveyed them – its prey. Two lost young men stumbling blindly, is what they looked like to the creature. 

Felix kept waiting for Jeongin to pull out his gun, had to refrain from making a grab for it himself. And the longer they waited, the more bored the creature looked, an expression of distaste forming on its face seconds before it broke into a sprint and lunged.

Felix stumbled, tripping and falling flat on his back. He watched as Jeongin raised his arms, a shield against those wings that lashed against them, ripping through the sleeves of his jacket. He shouted a warning when that tongue darted out, wrapping itself around one of Jeongin’s wrists, forcing a cry out of his mouth as thorns pierced flesh. A clawed hand closed around Jeongin’s throat, squeezing. But not for long.

Felix hadn’t even seen it. The knife that Jeongin plunged into the creature’s thick hide. Not enough to seriously injure but it staggered back in surprise and rage. And Jeongin followed with a kick that slammed into the Servant’s chest, pushing him further back. And right into one of Chan’s snares. Oh.

The metal jaws snapped around the Servant’s ankle, jagged spikes piercing the flesh and holding him in place. The creature let out an inhuman shriek, but it was the answering call from nearby that made Felix’s blood run cold. He realized now why Jeongin hadn’t used the gun. The sound would’ve been a beacon.

“We need to run,” Jeongin said. Felix didn’t argue.

They sprinted beyond the tree-line and out onto the open lawn. And only when they were halfway across did Felix dare glance over his shoulder. And what he saw made his bowels go icy, chilling him to the bone. It wasn’t any creature that chased after them now, but an incandescent rippling wave of darkness visible in the distance, different from the shadows of the night –  _ the Darkness _ , rising and falling, breaking off into splinters that darted after them. Felix knew he was too weak – it would never keep him alive, never take him into its service. He’d be dead in a minute. 

Felix really should have kept looking forward. If he did, he might not have tripped and ended up sprawled on the ground for the second time that night. Jeongin swore and came to a halt, gripping Felix’s arm and hauling him to his feet. Both watched transfixed as a few yards away from them, that wave of darkness crested and… receded.

He didn’t waste time pondering why it hadn’t attacked. There would be time for that later. He had a more pressing problem to deal with. Before they reached the porch he could see the flickering light behind the window. Minho and Chan. 

Somehow, the thought of getting caught outside by them – and with a  _ stranger _ – dredged up more fear than he’d felt just a few seconds before. Tears already sprung to his eyes but he blinked them back. “Can you climb?” he asked Jeongin, noting his wounds, especially that wrist.

“Yeah, why?”

“Upstairs. The third window on the left,” was all he said before he bounded up onto the porch, leaving Jeongin cast in shadow.

The front door opened and Felix forced himself to look Chan in the eye, “I’m sorry, okay?”


	2. Chapter 2

**Silica Military Base**

Changbin stared at the array of photos pinned to the clapboard that spanned one length of the room. Several of them depicted fearful faces bathed in moonlight, others barely visible as they tucked themselves into the folds of the night, trying to camouflage themselves from danger in dingy rundown buildings or holed up in tents. But they would never be able to hide from the Darkness. Because Changbin's saviour was everywhere, lurking, watching, waiting. And as a Servant to the Darkness, Changbin would do its bidding. 

Fifteen months had passed since the Darkness had liberated him from the scum, the filthiness of being human. Never again would Changbin be a frail, sniveling creature, a waste of space. There was always that line that those beings were too afraid to cross, a line which when overstepped would make them lose what was most fundamental to them – humanity. A fear of too much bloodshed, too much lust, too much power kept them beyond that line. He was different now. He was  _ more _ . He'd ascended to a level of existence that those human  _ things _ could only dream of. And he was determined to eliminate any threat to his existence.

He studied those threats, each pathetic face photographed by his scouts. And like always, one stopped him in his tracks, pulling at his attention like a cord attached to a bell he could only faintly hear. The young man had some tie to Changbin's former existence. A bond fraught with hatred that made the Darkness in Changbin's blood begin to boil in anger and thrash against his skin. This man had wronged him somehow. It was a betrayal that ran so deep, it was impossible to ignore. It forced his hand, made him use more resources than he could spare to track down the man, to find him so that Changbin could take him apart piece by piece.

"Hwang Hyunjin," Changbin frowned. "Any word?"

"No Commander Seo," one of his Generals admitted, slightly apprehensive. "He was spotted during the attack on Amery City last night. But no news since then."

Changbin hissed, unimpressed. "General Nael, take a few of your soldiers out to Amery tonight. Be discreet. I want him found and brought to me. Alive and well." 

"Of course, Commander Seo."

He dismissed her with the wave of a hand and strode over to the map he'd been poring over for the past few months. One area in particular was ringed in red. He scoffed in annoyance. "General Clay, take two battalions out to Ambro. Crush the pathetic thing that they're beginning to call a resistance. Don't bother with prisoners. Gut the Immunes and display their bodies in every major city."

He dismissed the General with the wave of a hand and strode over to the door on the left. It opened to a large laboratory. He grabbed his white coat off the hook and slipped it on, donning a pair of gloves as well. 

While several of his test subjects – all Immunes – lay in a daze in their glass cubicles, some were violently sick, their coughing and pleas for mercy muffled by the glass. Experiments gone awry. It couldn’t be helped. The Darkness whispered to him beneath his skin, its words bringing comfort and encouragement. 

It spurred Changbin on to where his latest subject lay cuffed to a table. Changbin towered over the Immune, his scalpel poised. "Now, let's see what makes you nuisances tick.”

**The Estate**

Felix had to be crazy. Every scathing word from Chan and Minho had entered through one ear and left through the other. Usually, he’d be sobbing in his room, doing whatever he could to make it up to them for being so reckless with his life. But all he felt was a fading sense of exhilaration, slowly being replaced with a need for more. He had to be crazy.

Someone sane would definitely not have snuck out of his room again to raid the pantry for a dangerous stranger they were harboring in their bedroom. But here he was, traipsing back to his bedroom, a plate of food stolen from the pantry in his hand.

Jeongin was still on the floor where Felix had left him fifteen minutes ago, illuminated by the light of a single oil lamp. He glanced at Felix and then at the plate in his hand. “You said you were hungry,” he muttered, placing the plate beside Jeongin’s feet. “I hope it’s enough.”

Jeongin gave him an unreadable look before he closed his fingers over the bread. Felix perched on the bed, unable to look away as the man tore a hunk of bread into two, stuffing his mouth with one half, barely chewing before he crammed a few strips of veal into his mouth. Chan would’ve had chest pains at the sight. The thought brought a smile to his lips.

He flushed when Jeongin glanced at him, pausing mid-chew and then continuing when Felix looked away. “So you’re not in trouble?” Jeongin asked in a whisper after he’d cleaned his plate.

Felix shrugged. “I told you they bought my story.” Minho and Chan had been bristling with barely contained rage when Felix explained that he’d wanted to experience it for himself –being outside the mansion after sunset, seeing whether it was all that scary, whether their fears were justified. It wasn’t a complete lie too. “Chan says I’m not allowed to leave the mansion until I’ve learned my lesson.”

Jeongin gulped down water from a flask and fixed Felix with a curious stare. “You’re letting them keep you prisoner?”

“I…” Felix swallowed hard. “It’s not like that. I did something wrong. I could’ve died. It’s for my own good.”

“You’re not a toddler,” Jeongin argued, his face set in a scowl. “You can decide for yourself what’s good for you.”

But Felix shook his head. He didn’t have that right. They were at Chan’s mercy and so he always got the last word in. He sighed and lay back on the bed, staring at the ceiling. It was no use trying to explain his predicament. Jeongin would only look at him in that condescending way, or worse, look at him with sympathy.

Silence ballooned, threatening to burst into awkwardness unless one of them spoke. Felix couldn’t decide whether it was fortunate or unfortunate that it was Jeongin who spoke. “How long were you out there when the Darkness arrived?”

Felix tensed. It wasn’t a great memory. Or rather, the parts that he actually remembered weren’t so great. “Minho and I were on the run for a week before Chan found us.”

“A week?” Jeongin snorted, and Felix glanced at the door in alarm. With Minho and Chan just across the hallway from him, they could get caught easily. “That explains a lot. But you’ve been outside the estate since then, right?”

No. No he hadn’t. And it evoked a deep sense of shame, and an intense need to leave, to be free. But he was safe at the estate. “You’re asking a lot of questions yet you refuse to tell me anything about yourself,” he peered at Jeongin again and raised a brow. He’d tried asking Jeongin where he came from, what he’d been doing out there all this time, but he couldn’t get that door to budge even a smidgen.

“You haven’t,” Jeongin said, his eyes widening in realization. “You haven’t left the estate since Chan brought you here.” And there it was. The sympathy.

“We’re not all Immunes like you,” Felix snapped, eyes flashing. “I’ll be sleeping now. You can’t sleep down there. Minho might come in…” he hesitated. “You can sleep at the bottom of my closet.”

He’d just turned onto his side, when he heard them. Again. Like he did every night. Minho and Chan having sex. They were always loud, moans and gasps filtering in through the door. He buried his face in his hands, burning with embarrassment and maybe a bit of envy too. He’d always wondered… There were things he’d looked forward to experiencing. Things he’d given up on experiencing.

He thought about the way Jeongin had touched him, the way his teeth, tongue and fingers had roamed over his skin. Felix had experienced a few harmless kisses before his world got turned upside down. But nothing like what Jeongin had done to him. He’d fantasized about what it would feel like, about what it would feel like if he was in Minho’s place. Yes, he’d fantasized about Chan even before Minho started sharing the man’s bed. He’d walked in on them once, had seen Minho gripping the headboard while Chan thrust into him. It should have disgusted him. It did, partly. But for the most part, it had only fueled his fantasies about Chan. And in turn, that had fueled his guilt. Because Chan was Minho’s. And these disgusting thoughts about Chan were a betrayal.

He slipped his fingers beneath his hoodie, cold fingers trailing over his smooth skin. If he squeezed his eyes shut hard enough until he saw bursts of color, he could just about imagine the way Jeongin’s fingers held felt, playing over his skin like Chan played the piano in the living room. Every touch was the push of key, sending a deep vibration through his body.

“Immunes aren’t as lucky as you think they are.”

Felix opened his eyes, blinking to readjust to the dim light. “I think they are. They get to go wherever they damn well please. They don’t have to rely on anyone to keep them safe.”

Footsteps padded across the floorboards, making their way to the closet. “Immunes are never safe. Awful things can happen to them, Felix. Sometimes safety is just an illusion that keeps you from seeing the bars of your cage.”

**Amery City**

"You're leaving."

It wasn't a question but it halted Hyunjin in his tracks, his pack full of supplies slung over his shoulder. He arched a brow at the young man who stood to the side, half cast in shadow by the rubble of what was once the grandest theatre in the city. "I don't see a problem with that."

"If there isn't a problem," the man stepped out of the shadows, revealing his smug smile, "then why didn't you ask for those supplies instead of stealing them? Why did you wait for the meeting to start before you slipped away?" 

Hyunjin's hand moved to the knife sheathed in his belt. He'd never harmed another human before, but if push came to shove, he'd do it. Without thinking, without regret. "Are you going to tell them?" 

He knew this man. Not on a personal level. But when Hyunjin's previous group fell just two months ago and he'd come crawling to find new one, this man had been there, watching from the sidelines as a few people debated whether to accept Hyunjin or throw him back out into the night. He'd seen this man tear into the Servants with knives, seen him shoot with deadly precision, had admired the way he'd maneuvered his body. A man who knew how to survive. Skills parallel to Hyunjin's own. Seungmin _. Kim Seungmin _ , they'd told Hyunjin when he'd asked around. 

Seungmin cocked his head to the side, "No. But I'm going with you." 

Hyunjin snorted out a laugh. "Like hell you are. Go back to the group. See what they decided." He could already guess what the group would do without an Immune. They'd split up while the daylight lasted, go groveling to other groups, ask to join. He'd done the same too many times before. 

"You're going that way," Seungmin jerked his head towards the bridge that connected to the highway. "I need to go that way too."

Hyunjin regarded him with a hard stare. "Why?"

"I heard there's a resistance North East. In Ambro." 

"Bullshit," Hyunjin shook his head. They'd all heard the rumors. Just rumors. "There's nothing there. Find a group somewhere in Amery. A group with an Immune. Good luck," he added as an afterthought and took a step towards the bridge. 

A familiar click. "I know that you're an Immune."

Again Hyunjin halted, turning to face Seungmin, and the gun pointed at him. A knot in his chest tightened but he didn't dare reach for any of his weapons. "How'd you find out?" 

"Observation," Seungmin shrugged. Calm, collected, that ruthlessness Hyunjin had seen now prowling just below the surface of his skin. "I see how they flock to you. The Servants. How desperate they are to get rid of you. And honestly, it was a guess. Until you confirmed it now. You wouldn't attempt making it on your own out there if you weren't an Immune. I don't think you're that stupid."

Hyunjin swore under his breath. He’d been watching Seungmin, and it appeared that Seungmin had been watching him too. He wished he hadn't learned the man's name. It would be so much easier killing someone nameless.

"I can tell them, you know," Seungmin lifted his shoulders in a lazy shrug. "I could tell them that you're an Immune. That you're leaving." Hyunjin tensed, his gut roiling at the threat. There was no way to prove he was an Immune in broad daylight, but if they waited until the night set in, until the Darkness crept out… "The entire city is desperate. So many groups need Immunes. You heard what the group down in Shawe did, didn't you?" Hyunjin had heard. It wasn't his first time hearing of a group keeping an Immune in chains, like a dog bred to keep them safe. "And I wouldn't want the same to happen to you." 

"And yet you're holding me at gunpoint." 

Seungmin smiled easily, lowering the gun. Crazy fucking bastard. "Had to make you stop and listen. There's a reason people stay in groups. It's safer. You need someone to watch your back. I can do that for you."

Within seconds, Hyunjin had his own gun pointed at the man. "Sorry," he said with a tone that indicated he was anything but sorry, "but I don't need anyone. And I sure as hell don't want any liabilities following me around." 

"You're being stupid," Seungmin sighed, and even had the nerve to look disappointed. "Yeah, sure, you're good. You can take down one, maybe two or three at a time. But what happens when you're being attacked by seven or eight or more? Like last night? It took our whole group, didn't it?" He paused, probably for dramatic effect. "You need me. You need someone to have your back, Hyunjin."

Hyunjin bristled at the way Seungmin said his name. Casual. This was all too casual. Like he'd been planning this little speech in his head. Probably had for a while too. Still, he lowered his gun and strode towards Seungmin. "Fine, but I'll warn you now. You may have my back when we're out there. But I won't give a fuck about you. I'll always put myself first. If I have to run and leave you behind, I will. I won't even risk getting a scratch for you. You understand?"

Seungmin nodded with a relaxed smile, and a laughed slipped from his lips as if it was all a joke. "Sure, Hyunjin." And that smile remained as they began their trek across the stretch of asphalt. 

“I don’t have time for this,” Hyunjin snapped, ten minutes after enduring Seungmin’s loitering, hanging over the guardrails to look at the bloodstained water below, as if he was a fucking tourist. “We need to find shelter before the sun sets.”

But Seungmin only chuckled, hands swinging at his sides as he strolled leisurely, “Calm down, man. It’s… What?” he scrunched his nose, “A thirty minute walk to the other end, yeah? And there’s a gas station just a little way down from there. It’s still early. We’d probably be able to go a bit further, even reach Abadene if we keep going. But since you feel uneasy, we can stay at the gas station until tomorrow morning. That’s if it’s still standing. The group that passed through last week said that it was. Let’s hope that it still is.” He met Hyunjin’s narrowed gaze and shrugged, “See, we have a plan, don’t we?”

“ _ You _ have a plan,” Hyunjin corrected, growing more annoyed by the second. “And I think I deserve to know the specifics.” But he found himself slowing his pace again when Seungmin stopped, this time crouching beside one of the several wrecked vehicles scattered along the bridge like Legos. The car had been crushed into a metallic pulp, the front compressed into the back. “What the hell are you doing?” Hyunjin scowled. The midday sun burned the back of his neck and he used the back of his hand to wipe away a bead of sweat rolling down the side of his face. Only the dregs of his patience remained now.

Seungmin wedged his hand between the compressed sheets of metal and began to tug on something. Hyunjin frowned at the backpack now sitting in Seungmin’s arms. “I left it here this morning after I saw you stealing supplies,” Seungmin said, unzipping the bag. “Thought I might need it when we leave.”

Hyunjin swore under his breath and peered into the bag, his jaw dropping. “This – but this is…” The bag was full to bursting with weapons, guns and knives that Hyunjin recognized from what the group had pooled. “You stole  _ everything _ ?” It was a question, but he didn’t need an answer. He knew that it was everything the group had. “You left them with nothing.”

“Look,” Seungmin sighed and closed the bag, “I’m joining a resistance. If it all works out, their asses will be saved too, right? It’s for the greater good.”

“The greater good?” Hyunjin gaped. He ripped the hair tie from his hair, running his hands through his sweat-dampened locks in exasperation. “You bastard. You left them defenseless. Even if they join other groups, they’ll have nothing to offer!”

“Oh, look who suddenly found his conscience,” Seungmin laughed, loud and boisterous. “Get a fucking grip, man. Everyone in this city is fucked anyway. May as well try to save the rest of the world, right?”

But Hyunjin knew that Seungmin didn’t really give a fuck about saving the rest of the world; the only person he wanted to save was himself. And Hyunjin was no better, really. So he shut his mouth and the led way ahead.

Without any further dallying from Seungmin, they reached the end of the bridge in less than twenty minutes. The bridge opened into a wide stretch of road. On one side stood the remnants of an ice cream parlor, the latter half of it blasted into a pile of dust. Across from the ice cream parlor was – if Hyunjin remembered correctly – a pet store, now reduced to shimmering rubble, the glass fragments catching the sunlight.

And between both ruins, on the road separating them, was a large blockade. A group of around fifteen occupied the space. They had a fire going, a large carcass skewered above the flame. A line of motorcycles and pickup trucks lined the road, forming a barricade behind them. If Hyunjin had to take a guess, he’d say that they had no plans to stay there. The group was probably about to head further inside the city.

Both Hyunjin and Seungmin crouched behind the debris, scanning the group for any weakness. Boxes of supplies lay unattended, a temptation only a fool would give in to. But it wasn’t a trap. This was a group confident in their ability to protect what they owned. And their possessions weren’t limited to food and weapons.

Hyunjin studied each of the five cages; the gaps between the bars were narrow but he could make out the hunched figures inside. Immunes. They were silent, some asleep, some sitting so still that they could have been mistaken for the dead if he hadn’t noticed the little restless movements of their fingers.

He knew what he had to do.

“Can you see that?” he asked Seungmin, gesturing to a vague spot on their right. Seungmin furrowed his brows and Hyunjin pointed.

When Seungmin slipped past him to take a closer look, he gripped his automatic around the barrel. “I don’t see any—” He slammed the butt of his gun against Seungmin’s skull, watching as the man crumpled into a heap on the tar. He used the rope from Seungmin’s pack to bind him, and began to drag him out into the open.

As he’d expected, guns were on him in a matter of seconds. A burly man with a scraggly beard that hung over his chest approached until the barrel of his rifle was pressed against Hyunjin’s chest. 

Hyunjin lifted his arms in surrender and spoke quickly, “Was separated from my group,” he lied. “Need to meet them up on the highway.” He jerked his head towards the bound, unconscious man at his feet. “A gift in exchange for passage through to the highway before sunset.”

The man used the tip of his boot to turn Seungmin over, appraising him like he was a hunk of meat. “A gift, huh?”

“I know I can’t prove it,” Hyunjin shrugged. “But he got me this far. He’s an Immune.” He gestured to the bag he’d thrown beside Seungmin. “Weapons for you.” Another show of good faith. His lips formed a practiced, good-natured smile. “You can trust me.”

The walls of the room that had housed the cashier remained sturdy. A few windows were cracked and the door hung off its hinges but Hyunjin could stay there for the night. He'd have gone further, probably made it to the Farlow – the river that flowed north east – and camped along its banks. But it had taken more time than he'd thought was necessary to negotiate his way out of the clutches of that group. 

He'd given up more than he'd planned to. They'd taken his food, his weapons... Even when he'd offered them intel on the groups that occupied the inner city limits. Those groups would be easy pickings now.

He rummaged behind a dusty counter, only coming away with a half empty bottle of stale water and some chewing gum. The gas station was completely ransacked, the filling stations outside drained and only a few missed cans of gas lying around where they’d fallen out of the arms of looters who were scrambling to safety.

He swore under his breath and slid down onto the floor, resting his head against the wall. The sun had just begun to fall away, its brilliant glow fading into the incoming night.

_ Night _ . His eyes flew open. There was no time to rest. The Darkness couldn't touch him, but it would lead its Servants to him. He needed to be prepared. But he was low on resources. 

He leapt to his feet and scanned the room for anything he could use to at least board up the windows. He looked through the large display window, eyes wide as the sun became a distant fiery orb. But something gave him pause. He furrowed his brows at the glistening red shape that seemed to emerge from the setting sun. 

It couldn't be a Servant, could it? That was impossible. The sun hadn't yet set. It wasn't time yet. Still, he took a step away from the window, his throat going dry at the realization that he was defenseless. 

The red shape drew closer. He clenched his fingers into fists. Whatever it was, he would fight. 

But it was no Servant walking towards him. It was Kim Seungmin. And Hyunjin had no fucking weapon except his fists! "Fuck, fuck, fuck…" Hyunjin began to murmur, panic overriding everything else.

Seungmin was drenched in blood, almost like he'd been bathing in it. He sported a sadistic grin, and when he braced his bloody hands against the window, fragments of glass fell to the floor. He bowed his head forward, Hyunjin could see flecks of grey and white in his hair. 

"Hey, Hyunjin," he said, resting his forehead against the glass, his eyes closed, "Fancy meeting you here." 

"You..." Hyunjin swallowed hard. "Are they dead then? All of them?"

Seungmin shook his head, a smile playing on his lips. "Not all of them. Can I come in?"

Hyunjin stared. How had Seungmin even managed that feat? Surely there was a lie somewhere in there. Hyunjin had left him unconscious in a fucking cage. 

“Can I?” Seungmin repeated his question.

"You're asking permission?" Hyunjin cocked a brow, playing for time. He'd literally sold Seungmin. Something like that wouldn't be forgiven. Couldn't be forgiven. Was Seungmin going to gut him? Would he keep Hyunjin captive? Would he leave Hyunjin strung up for the Servants to find? 

But when Seungmin lifted his gaze, there was no anger or resentment in it, only amusement. "I didn't think you had it in you to do what you did back there. I guess I'm giving you another chance," he pressed away from the glass, jaw hanging slightly as he panted. "Wanna do this together or not?"

Hyunjin's gaze drifted from the blood streaking across Seungmin's face to the bags he'd brought with him. Weapons, food... Survival. "Come in."

Hyunjin stood awkwardly to the side, chewing on honey butter chips, staring into the night while trying to keep an eye on Seungmin. A part of him refused to believe that Seungmin really wasn’t pissed off at him. But for the most part, Seungmin paid him little attention while he washed the blood off his face and hands. He’d even let Hyunjin take his pick from the weapons he’d brought with him. They’d agreed to split whatever could be carried on them. The rest they’d keep bagged, haul it after them as they traveled.

He eyed the blood-soaked t-shirt that clung to Seungmin’s body. The sight and odour would have been enough to induce a bout of nausea, but to Hyunjin’s surprise, it brought him comfort. Because spilled blood that wasn’t his own could only mean one thing – that he was safe, that he was alive. It was a cruel thought, but the world was a cruel place, wasn’t it?

“What?”

Hyunjin blinked at Seungmin, slipping back into consciousness. “What?”

“What were you staring at?” Seungmin asked, emptying a bottle of water over his head, cleaning out the brain matter and bits of bone.

“Nothing,” Hyunjin replied quickly, shaking his head. “I’m keeping watch.” He stepped closer to the window to prove his point.

“Does the blood bother you?” Seungmin taunted, his voice filled with cruel humor as he hooked a grenade to his belt. 

“No,” Hyunjin scowled. “But I don’t see why you’re still wearing that shirt like a badge of honor.” He gestured to one of the duffel bags. “You have another set of clothes.”

Seungmin was upon him in a second, his body pressing Hyunjin against the fragile glass. Afraid that the window was going to shatter, Hyunjin pressed back against him, feeling the slow rise and fall of Seungmin’s chest against his own. “It  _ is _ a badge of honor, Hyunjin. I deserve to wear every fucking drop of blood I spill like a badge of honor. You know why? Because they’re dead and I’m not.” Yeah, they weren’t so different, him and Seungmin. 

For a few seconds, Seungmin held his gaze, ignoring the knife that Hyunjin had pressed into his side. And slowly, unreservedly, his gaze dropped to Hyunjin’s lips. With his fingers he traced the path of a bead sweat that slipped along Hyunjin’s neck, catching the droplet on his thumb before it disappeared beneath his collar. “What’s the worst thing you’ve ever done?” The question was punch to Hyunjin’s gut, and he felt the knot in his chest begin to tighten, his throat constricting. “Whatever it was, was it as bad as fucking a psychopath?”

Hyunjin’s shoulders relaxed and he exhaled, shaking his head, his eyes fixed on the hem of Seungmin’s shirt that he’d fisted in his hand at some point during their confrontation. His fingers were stained red now. But they always were, weren’t they? A permanent stain that he couldn’t wash off.

“No?” Seungmin arched a brow, the corner of his lips lifting. “It wasn’t that bad?”

“I – I mean…” Hyunjin wet his dry mouth with saliva and swallowed. “I meant that you’re not a psychopath. You do what you need to do to survive. That doesn’t make you crazy.” And when he lifted his gaze to Seungmin’s, he could see that the man was well aware of the demon’s that haunted him at night, of the waking hell he endured every time he stopped to recall the things he’d done. If anyone could understand, it would be Seungmin. Or maybe Hyunjin was just desperate for someone to share his burden.

Seungmin flicked Hyunjin’s lower lip with his thumb, leaving a trace of salt. But when his head lowered to Hyunjin’s, it became clear that Hyunjin wasn’t ready.  _ What's the worst thing you've ever done? _ It was too soon. Too soon. Months had passed. Over a year. But still too soon. He pushed away from Seungmin. “Let’s not complicate things.”

“Really?” Seungmin snorted out a laugh. “There’s nothing complicated about fucking. You didn’t seem all that shy about jerking off at night when you thought everyone else was asleep. You have a pretty dick, by the way.”

Hyunjin balked and spun around, gawking at the man. “You – you saw—” he spluttered.

“Oh, I didn’t just see,” Seungmin grinned. “I  _ watched _ .”

"Maybe you are a psychopath," Hyunjin glared, his anger swelling when Seungmin only laughed harder. "You—" He gasped at the shape materializing out of the dark. "Servant."

Seungmin scowled and picked up his crossbow. "I know you Immunes draw them in. But  _ you _ are a fucking magnet."

Hyunjin couldn’t dispute that. He bit down on his tongue, and advanced towards the door with a tactical ax in one hand and a semiautomatic in the other.

Charging towards them was a Servant that could have been mistaken for a human, no older than twelve. Her face was pale, set with delicate features that hardened as she took in Hyunjin and Seungmin. Wisps of blonde hair slipped from behind her leather cowl as she drifted forward. Drifted. Like a wraith. And when she clenched her fingers into fists, thick black veins crept beneath her pale skin like snakes writhing below the surface. The flaps of her leather coat flared open behind her as she moved towards them. A General. There was no way they could take out a General by themselves. He'd seen their kind bring down entire buildings with the snap of their fingers, had heard that they could turn rain into poison with a huff of breath and empty out the ocean to drown entire cities. 

She stopped a few meters from them and lifted a hand, flames dancing on her fingertips. "Which one of you left us that gift?"

Gift? Hyunjin narrowed his eyes and glanced at Seungmin who remained impassive, calm. 

_ "Are they dead then? All of them?" _

_ “Not all.” _

What had he done? Tied them up and left them for the Servants to find? It was smart, honestly, and would have granted Seungmin some reprieve if he wasn't with Hyunjin. But like he’d said, Hyunjin was a magnet. 

"Your gift was well received," the General said, her lips forming a smile. "My runts enjoyed themselves." 

On cue, two figures emerged from the shadows. Unlike the unmarred face of the General, their faces were twisted in grotesqueness. One had long, curving fangs that protruded past its slobbering jaw, round yellow eyes wide and alert. A tuft of hair protruded from its elongated cranium. The shirt that hung to its knees bore long tears that matched the claws protruding from its hands. The other looked like a sickly thing, its face gaunt, its eyes tiny beads compressed into its sockets. Its skin hung like a bronze piece of cloth billowing in the wind. Instead of any garments, smooth ivory spiraled, cage-like around its torso, and Hyunjin realized with a jolt that it was bone, its skeletal structure formed  _ outside _ its body.

A bolt flew from Seungmin's crossbow, piercing the fanged Servant's throat. A shriek split the silence, but where black sludge should have sprayed into the air, two tentacles tore through the creature's throat, wrapping around the shaft of the arrow and tugging until the metal head came away, a chunk of flesh with it. Hyunjin raised a brow at Seungmin who shrugged as if to say,  _ It was worth a try _ .

Had the General not stood in the way, this would have been easy. But Hyunjin knew fighting would do no good now. Not with the growing ball of fire cupped in the General's hands. Ropes of flame streaked away, reaching for them and then springing back as if held on a leash.

"Give us the Immune and you can leave," the General purred, eyes fixed on Seungmin. "He's the one we want. I have orders from my Commander to take him." To  _ take _ him. It was probably the only reason he and Seungmin hadn't yet been turned to ash. A protective wall of fire sprang up around the Servants. The General stood within the wall, the flaming licking her torso but doing no harm. Weapons would be futile now, projectiles would simply melt before reaching their targets. 

Seungmin lifted a hand in surrender and crouched to place his crossbow on the ground. But when he rose again, he wasn't empty handed. He raised the can of gasoline over Hyunjin's head, drenching him in the substance before doing the same to himself. Hyunjin's eyes watered at the overpowering scent and he sent Seungmin a derisive look. 

"I think you'd want to keep a tighter leash on your fire now," Seungmin shrugged. "I don't think your Commander would be too happy if you turned him into a pile of ash." He threw the can to the ground, and unhooked a grenade from his belt. "Or I could do this," he smiled. "Blow us both into pieces."

"You wouldn't," the General hissed, her lip curling. But her fire had gone out in an instant.

"Wouldn't I?" Seungmin cocked his head to the side. "You think I'd rather choose being ripped apart by teeth and claws?" He glanced at Hyunjin. "What would you choose, Hyunjin?"

"Do it," Hyunjin gestured to the grenade. He didn’t know whether Seungmin was bluffing. Maybe he didn’t care if he wasn’t.

Seungmin's fingers moved to the clip. 

"Wait," the General snarled, "we'll leave." 

The fanged servant spoke, slobber leaking from its jaw with every garbled word, “But we have orders, General.”

“Orders we cannot follow just yet,” the General barked, her eyes burning bright with rage. 

Her companions lowered their heads in submission. And all three Servants melted back into the dark, a single orange spark lingering in the air before it vanished. 

Hyunjin chewed on his lip, studying the man beside him. Finally he said, “I don’t get it. I don’t get you. You – you’re capable of things…” Capable of taking out a group of fifteen from a fucking cage. And how had Seungmin so wittily maneuvered them out of that situation with the General? “I don’t get it,” he repeated. “It’s like you were trained for this. Who are you? No, actually…” he hesitated. “Who  _ were _ you? Before everything?”

Seungmin offered him a grim smile, and said with a voice void of any emotion and lacking his usual gusto, “I just saved your life, by the way. You’re welcome.” 

“Thank you,” Hyunjin said quickly, because he really was grateful. “But who are—”

“We need to get going,” Seungmin began to turn away but Hyunjin caught hold of his wrist.

"Would you have really done it? If they didn't leave?" he asked, looking at the grenade hanging from Seungmin’s belt.

"Yes," Seungmin answered without hesitation. He took a step closer towards Hyunjin, placing his fingers beneath his chin to coax his gaze upward, "Would you have wanted me to?"

"Yes." 


	3. Chapter 3

**Silica Military Base**

The Darkness darted around in excitement. Its black wisps curled, rising and falling as they sensed fresh prey. Changbin smiled from afar as he watched the Darkness close in on the woman. This was always one of his favorite pastimes – seeing the life leave their weak human forms, seeing them transcend into a higher existence. 

For a moment the woman was blanketed completely in a cloud of black. Changbin knew that once the Darkness shifted off her, the transformation would begin. 

What was she afraid of? Changbin had to wonder what magnificent new creation the Darkness would present to the world. The Darkness would latch onto the woman’s very nightmares, drawing inspiration from what haunted her the most – the monsters that dwelled in the corners of her mind, the creatures that dwelled under her bed as a child.

He only glimpsed a pair of horns before he turned away from the window to watch one of his Generals approach. “Bryne,” he greeted with a nod before getting straight to the point. “Reports on our escapee?”

The man swallowed hard, pupil-less eyes unblinking as he shook his head, “No, Commander Seo,”

Changbin swore and looked away. How had the human managed to free himself of the Darkness? How had he managed to remain undetected for so long? They should have had him by now. Changbin should have been taking him apart by now.

“Commander Abeth has most of his flock out looking for the escapee,” Bryne said hurriedly. “He’ll be caught soon.” A petty reassurance.

Changbin scoffed, “A hundred Servants in his flock and he’s still unable to find the human. Send a message to Commander Abeth. Tell him that if he’s incapable of handling his base, I’ll be happy to take over from him.” 

He could feel the warm thrum of the Darkness, his Master, beneath his skin. His Master seemed to agree with him. It wouldn’t be the first time the Darkness had replaced an incapable Commander. Changbin would be all too happy to take on more responsibility. 

“Hwang Hyunjin?” Changbin questioned. “Any sighting?”

“Yes, Commander.” Changbin’s eyes widened in interest. “He was spotted in Campsdrift.”

Finally.

Changbin’s lips curved into a smile, “I want General Nael and General Lerose to burn Campsdrift to the ground. Send them in for a briefing immediately.” General Bryne shifted from foot to foot, his unease visible. Changbin surveyed his middle-aged body with interest. “Is it Nael or Lerose that makes you nervous?”

“Lerose, Commander.”

Changbin rarely took an interest in how his six Generals fared with each other. But even he could tell there would be some trepidation where a few of them were concerned. Each had a weakness, and two of his previous Generals had been victim to Lerose’s weakness – his lack of patience. 

Changbin snorted and waved a hand in dismissal, “Go. Deliver my messages. If Nael and Lerose aren’t in the briefing room in ten minutes,” he grinned, “I’ll feed you to Lerose myself.”

His fingertips drifted across the dark veins on his arms, probing, asking for reassurance.  _ Am I serving you well? _

**Campsdrift – Highway 211**

__

Hyunjin was covered in blood. 

He poured some water over his head, rubbing at his face vigorously. Even his eyelashes were matted with blood. His breath was ragged, his body on fire despite the windswept chill that skated around them. Nights like these all felt the same.  _ Circus nights _ – or that’s what Seungmin called them. He had a morbid sense of humor.

“Circus nights,” he’d told Hyunjin. “It’s when the freaks come out to play.”

The more grotesque forms of Servants – horns, tentacles, deformities that made Hyunjin’s stomach turn. Some things you saw only in nightmares, some that you couldn’t imagine even in your nightmares. But at least there were no Generals. They hadn’t encountered a General since the gas station two weeks ago. That made their journey all the more easier.

Between the two of them, and without any General to take care of, they could easily take out an entire horde of the monsters. They’d left piles of corpses behind as they’d traveled from Amery. 

“Which one looks worse?”

Hyunjin spun around, biting on his tongue to keep from exclaiming in surprise. “What the fuck, Seungmin?” he hissed. 

Seungmin looked at him expectantly, a corpse thrown over each shoulder. One of the corpses was a Servant with ivory thorns grown into its face, and hollowed pits mined into its body, ichor oozing from each pit. The other corpse was just as foul, almost animal-like, with hands matching the length of its feet and a long, half slashed off tongue that hung limply from its elongated maw. 

“Which one looks worse?” Seungmin repeated. He hadn’t bothered trying to clean himself up yet. The fire they’d lit illuminated the blood that stained his face, some of it on his teeth too. “We’re almost at the Cordsmouth border. But before we get there, there’s a market nearby where we can do some trade.”

“And we’re going to trade what exactly?” Hyunjin asked, looking suspiciously at the corpses dangling from his shoulders.

Seungmin rolled his eyes as if Hyunjin had asked a stupid question. He threw one of the corpses down onto the asphalt, and cradled the other – the one with thorns and pits – in his arms. “This one, I think.”

He set the corpse down carefully. And rummaged in his bag, retrieving an axe and a knife. 

“What are you doing?” Hyunjin’s eyes widened as Seungmin reached for the axe. 

“Back in Amery,” Seungmin said, raising the axe above his head, “a traveler said there’s a trade just a few stops before the Cordsmouth border. A trade for this. Servant skin.” There was an awful crunch as the axe was brought down over the corpse, the head severed cleanly. 

Hyunjin balked, “You can’t be serious.” He knew that trade was common – for food, for weapons, for Immunes, but this…

Seungmin looked up at him, a scowl on his face, “What? Do you think I’m skinning this thing for fun?” Hyunjin honestly wouldn’t put that past him but he kept his mouth shut and shook his head. Seungmin returned his attention to the corpse, making an incision and running his knife from the neck to the pelvis, “Apparently some dumbasses think they can use it as a kind of talisman. The more grotesque-looking the Servant is, the more they’re willing to trade.”

Hyunjin looked away as Seungmin’s knife slid beneath the skin. The Servant had been awful enough to look at on its own, but with its torso split open like that… There was a disgusting mixture of blood and black mucous pouring from the cavity.

“You getting squeamish?” Seungmin sighed as if he was disappointed. “This isn’t any different from skinning an animal.”

“I’ve never skinned an animal before,” Hyunjin frowned, looking anywhere but at the flayed corpse.

“It’s not that hard,” Seungmin murmured, his voice almost tender. Hyunjin’s brows inched upward and he risked a glance at the man. He seemed to be in an almost meditative state as his knife worked on the corpse. “Cut the membranes, release the skin. Peel it back, slowly, carefully… It’s not hard at all.”

“You seem good at that,” Hyunjin observed, trying to pry for more. He was curious about Seungmin. 

“I used to hunt with my father.”

Hyunjin’s eyes widened at the admission. “Oh?”

But Seungmin had shaken off whatever trance he’d been in. He rose to his feet. “The market is supposedly in the lower plains. If it’s still there, we can trade. We should probably take the head as well. Who knows what people consider talismans these days?”

“I’m not carrying that around,” Hyunjin made a face, taking a step back as if afraid that Seungmin was about to throw the head at him.

Seungmin’s smile was cunning. Condescending. He had the eyes of a predator, narrowing into slits.

Hyunjin remained frozen in place, eyeing the knife in Seungmin’s hand.

In the third grade, Hyunjin’s class had taken a trip to snake zoo. A snake handler had given them advice on what to do when encountering a snake in the wild. Advice that slipped into Hyunjin’s mind now:  _ Don’t move. _

“Don’t worry, Hyunjinnie,” Seungmin’s voice was soft, sweet, and patronizing. “I’ll be carrying everything. You won’t have to do it. You know why?” His smile faded and he said, “You don’t have the backbone to do what needs to be done for survival. You’re incapable. A coward. You stand there judging me because you think you’re better. You’re not better. You’re just a little boy, too afraid of the big, scary monsters.”

Hyunjin swallowed hard, trembling with a mixture of anger and embarrassment. “If I wasn’t capable of survival, how am I still alive?”

Seungmin gave him a wry smile, and held out the knife. “You think you’re capable? Prove it.” He jerked his head towards the corpse he’d discarded. 

Hyunjin felt sick as he knelt beside the corpse. Killing a Servant was one thing, but mutilation was another thing entirely. He didn’t want to do this. This wasn’t survival. This was just him trying to prove himself to a sadistic stranger.

He flinched when Seungmin kicked the axe over to him. “You saw what I did, right?”

Hyunjin broke into a sweat as his hand closed around the handle of the axe, “I saw. But…”

“But what? Lift the fucking axe and chop its head off. It’s just a Servant. It’s not like us.”

Still, Hyunjin hesitated.

“Or maybe,” Seungmin crouched down beside him, “you empathize with these things. Is that it? I mean, I’m human and you left me to die in a cage. But you’re suddenly too morally upright to take off a monster’s head? Do you  _ like _ the monsters, Hyunjin? Is that why—”

“Shut the fuck up,” Hyunjin clenched his jaw, raising the axe. It was futile but he hoped that Seungmin would stop him. That he’d throw his head back and laugh like the crazy son of a bitch that he was and say it was just a joke.

Seungmin didn’t stop him.

Maybe the strike wasn’t clean because Hyunjin had squeezed his eyes shut. The head was only partially severed. Membranes stretched like slimy pink elastic bands, jagged shards of bone poking through shredded skin. 

“Isn’t this enough?” Hyunjin asked through gritted teeth.

“No,” Seungmin barked out a laugh, “what the fuck is this? Do it properly.”

Hyunjin brought down the axe again, this time making sure his aim was precise. Seungmin made a satisfied noise, lifting the head off the ground, prying open the stiff maw to examine the teeth. “Finish up then,” he held out the knife to Hyunjin.

“I’m not doing that.”

“Yes, you are.”

Hyunjin’s glare shifted towards Seungmin. This time he’d stand his ground. “I’m not doing this, Seungmin.” He stood up. “I’m not you. I don’t want to be like you. And you can call me a fucking coward. I don’t care. I’m not doing it.”

Seungmin stood up with him, giving him a morose stare before he burst into laughter. He flung the knife aside and clapped him on the shoulder, “It’s about time. You’re always such a fucking pushover. It was getting annoying.”

Hyunjin gawked at him. What the fuck? 

“What? Was this all some kind of test?”

“Maybe,” Seungmin shrugged, wetting his face and using the end of his t-shirt to clean off the blood. He raised a wet hand to Hyunjin’s cheek, but he flinched away. Seungmin raised a brow, “Let me.”

Hyunjin frowned as dipped his head, letting Seungmin clean off the blood. This man gave him whiplash. And yet, something warm bubbled beneath Hyunjin’s skin at Seungmin’s touch. He missed… affection. He missed this.

Ever since that night at the gas station, Seungmin hadn’t hinted at anything intimate, and Hyunjin had been content with that. But now, when Seungmin’s lips brushed over his, Hyunjin couldn’t pull away.

Even if he wasn’t ready. Even if he didn’t deserve this. He couldn’t stop himself.

It was a tentative kiss. Unrushed. Seungmin tasted of blood, and Hyunjin knew that he did as well. When Seungmin’s tongue flicked over his lips, Hyunjin took a step forward, their bodies flush against each other. “I don’t…” Hyunjin murmured against Seungmin’s lips. The man froze, waiting for him to continue. “I don’t understand you.”

Seungmin chuckled, “Do you have to?” He clamped his teeth around Hyunjin’s lower lip, inducing a sharp pain that wasn’t unwelcome at all. 

It flipped a switch that provoked a mutual frenzy between them. A slow burn that sparked into a raging heat. A clash of tongues and teeth, and desperate hands trying to find solace in each other. Seungmin’s fingers raked through Hyunjin’s hair, finding purchase and tugging his head back to expose his throat. Hyunjin whined at the sensation of Seungmin’s mouth on his throat, trying to rut against his thigh like an animal. Desperate. He was desperate.

But when Seungmin stopped all movement, Hyunjin was immediately on alert. “What is it?”

“Servant,” Seungmin whispered against his skin. “Fifty feet away. Looks like a General.”

“No, can’t be,” Hyunjin disagreed, gaze drifting up to the sky. A faint orange glow had cracked open the dark sky. “Sun’s coming up. Human.”

Seungmin pulled away from him, pointing his semi at the man. Hyunjin could understand why Seungmin had thought he was a General. He seemed human except for his clothing. He wore a robe – one that many of the Generals sported. Maybe he’d found it lying around and slipped it on.

He had a slight limp, his eyes wide and unfocused. His face was dirty and bruised. Had he been attacked? 

“You can stop there,” Seungmin said when the man was a few feet away. “Who are you?”

The man came to a halt. And fell to his knees. He clutched a hand to his stomach and began to wretch violently. The sun had risen enough to shed light on the substance he coughed onto the asphalt. Blood – but that wasn’t alarming. What really caught Hyunjin off-guard was that the blood was flecked with black.

It didn’t make sense.

Hyunjin’s brows drew together, but Seungmin had already acted, swinging his boot into the man’s side and pinning him down, the barrel of his gun pressed to his head. 

“Seungmin, wait,” Hyunjin said quickly. “He  _ can’t _ be a Servant. The sun is up.”

“Are you blind?” Seungmin snapped. “Look.” He jerked his head towards the mixture of blood and ichor. 

“But the sun…” Hyunjin shook his head. They all knew what happened to Servants who got caught in the sun. Their monstrous bodies couldn’t handle the sun. They would screech in pain until the seams of their bodies split open. It took only a few seconds of exposure to the sun – and direct sunlight wasn’t even necessary. If this man was a Servant, he would have been dead already.

He knelt beside the man, “What are you?” But the man seemed unable to speak, mouth opening and closing. “If you don’t say anything he’s going to kill you.”

“I’m going to kill him either way, Hyunjin.”

Hyunjin begged through gritted teeth, “Please. Say something.”

The man focused his eyes on Hyunjin. He had dark hair, uneven in length, as if it had been sheared hurriedly with a knife. A long scar ran from his right cheek down to his neck.

“My…” Hyunjin breathed a sigh of relief as the man attempted to string together his words. “My name’s Jisung. I was a – a Servant,” the man croaked out. “But I… I fought the change. I escaped.”

Hyunjin’s breath hitched. If that was true – if there was the slightest possibility… It changed everything. 

_ Everything _ .

Seungmin sat back, looking at Jisung with an almost bored expression on his face, “Say something interesting or I’m going to kill you.”

Hyunjin’s eyes widened as he looked from Jisung to Seungmin, “Just give him a minute.” He unscrewed the lid on his canteen and handed it over to Jisung.

He didn’t miss the suspicious glance Seungmin threw his way. Of course Hyunjin had been unable to avoid suspicion – he’d been far too protective over Jisung. He just had to know. How had he escaped? How had he fought the transformation? How was he still human? Were there others like him? 

Jisung sat on the asphalt, legs stretched out as he gulped down a bottle of water. He eyed Hyunjin and Seungmin with as much fascination as they eyed him. After a deep, stuttering breath, he said, “I’m not going to hurt you.”

It was Seungmin who latched onto his words first, “You’re not? So you  _ are _ capable of hurting us?”

Jisung hesitated, his tongue in his cheek. With his teeth clamped into his lower lip, he fixed his gaze on his hands. Hyunjin’s mouth went dry when two sets of metal claws slid out from beneath Jisung’s nails. He instinctively drew back, fingers closing around his gun. Beside him, Seungmin hadn’t even flinched.

“I said I’m not going to hurt you,” Jisung repeated, his voice hoarse and grating. Hyunjin caught a glimpse of the red thorns on his tongue before he took another gulp of water. “I’m human,” he implored, retracting his claws. “More human than – than the monster they turned me into.”

“How?” Hyunjin challenged. “How did you do it?”

“I can’t remember.”

Hyunjin’s heart sank. If he couldn’t remember…

“That’s bullshit,” Seungmin sprang for the man, gripping him by the frayed material of his robe. 

“Wait!” Hyunjin pried Seungmin’s fingers off Jisung. “Maybe it’s true. Maybe he just needs time.” 

“Why the fuck are you so concerned?” Seungmin narrowed his eyes. “This  _ thing _ is capable of killing us in our sleep.”

Hyunjin had to roll his eyes, “Yeah, Seungmin. You’re capable of killing me in my sleep too. But here we are.” When Seungmin remained unmoved, Hyunjin pleaded, “Please. Just give him a chance.”

Seungmin pursed his lips, and drew a long breath before exhaling, “ _ It _ . It’s not a him.” Hyunjin watched in relief as Seungmin stood up. “It’s your responsibility then. I just need one thing from it.”

“What?” Jisung asked with wide eyes, looking as if he wanted to bolt. Hyunjin didn’t blame him. Seungmin could be scarier than a Servant when he was in this mood. “What do you want from me?”

Seungmin cocked his head to the side, studying Jisung, and then turned to Hyunjin with a cunning smile on his face. “I don’t want any deadweights. I want to see what it’s capable of. How it can benefit us.” Hyunjin furrowed his brows. Another one of his sick tests? “Let’s go,” Seungmin swung his bag over his shoulder, head tilted up towards the rising sun. “The market should be opening soon. We need to get there before it does.”

**The Estate**

Felix brushed his fingers lightly over the ivory keys of the grand piano which stood neglected in the living room. His fingers came away covered in dust and he began to sneeze. 

“Still interested in learning?”

Felix spun around to find Chan standing in the archway, a glass of wine in hand. “That was a long time ago,” he said, wiping his fingers on his flannel shirt. 

“I did want to teach you,” Chan told him, wine stained lips forming a wistful smile. “I was just…” he shrugged.

“Busy,” Felix nodded. Busy with Minho. 

Chan cleared his throat and crossed the room, handing over his glass to Felix before taking a seat on the bench, his fingers poised to play. But he seemed hesitant, “Ah, it’s been a while.”

Felix sat down beside him, “You used to play every Sunday.”

Chan chuckled, “I didn’t think either of you were actually interested in hearing me play.”

“I was interested,” Felix said, heat streaking across his cheeks at how fast the words had tumbled from his mouth.

Chan turned his head to look Felix in the eye, “I didn’t know.”

Felix couldn’t look away from him, “I thought it was obvious,” 

“I’m so sorry, Felix.”

Felix’s eyes widened at the apology. Were they still talking about the piano? His fingers curled around the smoothed edge of the bench as he shifted towards Chan, “What are you sorry for?”

“For too much,” Chan shook his head, looking pained. It wasn’t the first time Felix sensed a hidden truth. What was it? What was it that he was hiding? 

Felix’s cheeks warmed when he realized that Chan’s fingers were wrapped around his own. He stared down at their interlocked fingers, “I – I don’t understand.”

“Felix—”

“What are you both doing down here?”

Felix nearly jumped out of his skin and although their hands weren’t visible, he flushed with shame when he felt Chan’s fingers covertly slipping away from his. 

Chan smiled at Minho and rose to his feet, “Nothing. Just having a chat about those piano lessons I promised Lix.”

Minho hummed, obviously unimpressed, “Come up to bed.” He fixed Felix with an unreadable stare, “It’s late, Lix. You should be in your room too.” 

Chan gently pried his glass from Felix’s hand, whispering, “Goodnight.”

Felix watched them both disappear, his heart sinking. For a few minutes he sat in silence, watching the clock tick. And he had to stifle a scream when a shadow appeared in the archway. 

“Jeongin,” Felix hissed, his heart thundering against his chest. 

Jeongin only gave him a disinterested look before examining the living room. Felix was tired of Jeongin’s late-night excursions exploring the mansion as if Minho and Chan weren’t just upstairs.

“He seems like an asshole.”

Felix recoiled. “What? Who? Chan?”

“Yeah,” Jeongin perched on the arm of the couch. “Hitting on you while he’s fucking your brother.”

“Hitting on me?” Felix blinked in surprise. “No, he wasn’t. He was just—”

“Are you always this naïve?”

Felix looked down at his feet, embarrassed. “He wasn’t hitting on me,” he muttered. “And anyway, you shouldn’t have overheard any of that. You weren’t supposed to be downstairs.”

“I want to see the basement.”

Felix scrunched his nose in distaste, “Why? It’s awful.”

“Because I want to.”

Felix inwardly groaned at the stubbornness radiating from the man. There was no denying him.

“You don’t have to come with me,” Jeongin said as they shuffled down the staircase.

“I just don’t want you getting caught.”

“And won’t it be better for you that you’re nowhere near me if I get caught?” Jeongin paused, leaning against the banister as he took in Felix’s flustered state. 

“Yes,” Felix admitted, “it might.” And then he proceeded to follow Jeongin into the basement. He wasn’t going to admit how much Jeongin’s company meant to him. “What do you want to do down here anyway?”

“Nothing. Just curious. I’ve seen every other corner of this mansion. So why not the basement?”

Felix frowned. The basement always gave him the creeps. Not just because it was a basement and basements were supposed to be scary by default, but because of what was kept down there. 

A week after Felix and Minho had moved onto the estate, Felix had grown brave enough to begin exploring on his own. Chan had expressly forbidden him from the basement, and that made it all the more tempting. But Felix had regretted sneaking into the dank, musty room. 

The basement contained simple wooden desks, similar to several found in other rooms in the mansion. Most of desks lined the walls, some of the unusable ones covered with tarp and pushed into a corner. There were no chairs – instead, rusted chains hung from the walls, iron cuffs attached to them. And that wasn’t the worst of it. In several large display cases were all manner of whips and canes. 

It appeared that Chan’s mother, the headmistress and owner of the reformatory took discipline quite seriously. When a stricken Felix had questioned Chan, Chan had admitted that life at the boarding institute had been nothing short of a nightmare for him and the other students. The other students, aged eleven to eighteen, had all been convicted of offences that ranged from petty crime to rape. But Felix had to question what kind of reform the physical punishment accomplished.

“So she did these things to her own son?” Jeongin asked, prying open a cabinet to take a closer look at their contents.

Felix nodded, wrapping his arms around himself. He really didn’t want to stay down there longer than necessary. “When he was out of line, apparently.”

“Explains why he’s such an asshole,” Jeongin muttered. “Although it doesn’t necessarily excuse him being an asshole.”

Felix considered Jeongin with a curious stare. Over the past two weeks Jeongin had expressed his discontent with Chan and Minho numerous times. Felix had every reason to despise those two, but he couldn’t understand why Jeongin had it out for them. He barely knew them.

“You say no one comes down here?” Jeongin questioned, a frown on his face.

“Yeah,” Felix shrugged. “Why?”

Jeongin swiped a finger over one of the desks. “No dust. The polish smells fresh too.”

Felix took a step closer, realizing that Jeongin was right. It was as if someone had been taking good care of this place. Chan? But why? What use did he have for it? Whatever it was, Felix really didn’t want to know. “We need to get back upstairs,” he said, glancing over his shoulder at the door.

“Why? They’re probably fucking right now. Are you missing the auditory stimulation?”

Felix bristled, his cheeks flushed, “Jeongin—”

Both of them froze at the sound of footsteps padding down the stairs followed by laughter. Minho and Chan.

Jeongin’s eyes grew wide, and he placed a finger over his lips. Felix could hardly breathe, could hardly move his stiff limbs. When Jeongin closed his fingers around his wrist, Felix let himself be dragged towards the tarp-covered desks. They crouched down, pressed against the wall and covering themselves beneath the tarp as best as they could. 

The tarp was almost translucent, but the desks would be enough to shield them as long as Minho and Chan stayed on the opposite end of the room. Felix could make out a bottle of wine swinging from Minho’s hand. Were they drunk or planning on getting drunk?

Minho’s laughter echoed as he pushed Chan up against one of the polished desks. They began tearing at each other’s clothes in a frenzy, and Felix had to look away. This couldn’t be happening right now. Beside him, Jeongin was unmoving, apparently undisturbed by the live porn they were witnessing.

When Felix chanced a glance at the couple again, Minho, naked, was seated on a desk while Chan was stripping out of his own clothes. Bare bodied, Chan reached for the bottle of wine that had been set down on one of the desks, and Felix was startled when he emptied the contents over Minho’s head. Minho’s laughter was wild, unfettered, more so when Chan began licking the burgundy liquid from his body.

Felix shouldn’t be watching this. He shouldn’t be there. He squeezed his eyes shut and dug his nails into his thighs. He heard the rattle of chains, and began to count loudly in his head. He didn’t want to hear any of this. He didn’t want to be there.

But when he heard his name, his eyes flew open. He tried to tune his ears to the conversation, his eyes widened as he took in Minho’s state. His brother was facing the wall, on his knees on the desk, bound by chains, arms spread eagled. What the hell?

“He’s asleep,” Minho whined. “He’s not coming down here.”

“But—”

“Do we have to go over this all the time?” Minho had a scowl on his face. “So what if he sees us fuck anyway? You know he probably gets off to us every night.” Felix hung his head, burning with shame. “You know it’s true,” he chuckled, swiveling around to raise his brows at Chan. “Do you see the way he looks at you? It’s pathetic.”

Chan’s answering laughter was a punch to Felix’s gut. Devastation – that’s what he felt. He dug his fingers into his sweater, fisting the material to match the tightness in his chest.

They thought he was pathetic. Did they laugh at him all the time? Mock him? A single tear slid down his cheek and he began to tremble as he held more tears back. He almost gasped when a hand slipped into his own, giving it a gentle squeeze. He looked up at Jeongin, startled to see the man’s tapering eyes already fixed on him, an unreadable look on his face.

A sharp cry from Minho made Felix flinch against the wall, the crinkle of the tarp echoing heavily throughout the basement. He held his breath, heart thundering against his chest as fear clawed through his chest and he clutched onto Jeongin’s hand for dear life. If they were caught – if  _ Jeongin _ was caught…

Chan’s head whipped towards them, his eyes narrowed, the cane in his hand frozen mid-air. Minho’s half-lidded eyes followed his gaze, head cocked to the side, “Set some mousetraps down here tomorrow.”

For a few torturous seconds Chan’s gaze was unmoving. Then he looked away. Felix could feel the tension unwind in his body, freeing his limbs, yet he didn’t dare move again. 

“Do you want to go back upstairs?” Chan asked, fingers touching the metal cuff locked around one of Minho’s wrists.

Minho twisted around to glare at him, his smirk devilish. “Scared of a few mice, Channie?”

Chan’s answer was to lock his teeth around Minho’s shoulder, forcing another cry from the man. Felix watched with wide eyes as Chan retrieved more items from one of the cabinets. They obviously did this – this thing, whatever it was – in the basement quite often. 

He tried to squeeze his eyes shut for most of it, but try as he may he couldn’t keep them shut for so long. He caught unfortunate glimpses every now and then – Chan’s fingers working Minho open, Minho tugging at the chains that restrained him, and the sight of Chan’s length entering Minho. He shouldn’t be watching any of it. He felt vile. Dirty. Just the lewd sounds alone – grunting, moaning, the sound of skin on skin – made him sick to his stomach.

If Jeongin hadn’t been there holding his hand he would’ve probably lost it completely. He wished he could be as calm and collected as Jeongin. His secret roommate hadn’t even flinched so far, hadn’t done anything to give away that he was bothered by any of this. He snuck a glance at him just as Jeongin shifted his gaze to him. 

A tentative smile formed on the man’s lips. Reassuring. Felix dropped his gaze to their intertwined hands. Jeongin’s thumb stroked softly over his knuckles. Felix felt a coil of tension loosen in his chest and something warm settled in the pit of his stomach.  _ It’ll be okay _ , Jeongin mouthed. Felix smiled, leaning his head against Jeongin’s shoulder. Ever so slowly – perhaps out of nervousness, or just taking caution not to disturb the tarp – an arm snaked around Felix’s waist, pulling him closer. And suddenly that awful,  _ awful _ situation became slightly more tolerable. 

He wasn’t sure how many minutes had passed, but the heavy panting ceased, accompanied by the rattle of chains. “Let’s get some sleep,” he heard Chan murmur, and Minho let out a satisfied moan in response. With Minho in his arms, Chan’s gaze swept the room. Felix held his breath until Chan turned around again, making his way upstairs. 

For a few minutes, Jeongin and Felix remained as they were just to be sure that they wouldn’t be heard. Felix felt relieved when the tarp was finally lifted off him. But he didn’t stand up just yet. He wrapped his arms around Jeongin and sighed into his chest, “Thank you.”

“Felix.”

The terseness in Jeongin’s voice made Felix pull away in alarm. He was being too forward, wasn’t he? “I’m sorry,” he began. “I—”

“I’m going to help you,” Jeongin declared, reaching to take Felix’s hands into his own. He gave them a squeeze, “I want to help you, okay?”

With arched brows, Felix’s jaw lowered slightly. He shook his head, “Help me? With what?”

“You’re unhappy, Felix.”

It was a statement that made Felix want to curl into himself. Because it was true. But being happy didn’t matter so much as staying alive did. Happiness… Who thought about happiness anymore? Unbidden, the image of Chan and Minho just a few moments ago entered his mind. Well, they seemed happy but…

“I’m sick of seeing them treating you like shit,” Jeongin scowled. “And I know you want more freedom,” he implored. “I know that you want to live. That you want to know what it’s like to do more than just survive.”

Felix couldn’t deny any of it. He sat stupidly, unable to force the denial. But not brave enough to voice his agreement. 

“Tomorrow morning,” Jeongin continued, “when you go down for breakfast, I’m going with you.” Felix blanched but Jeongin held up a hand, silencing him. “I can do it on my own, without you. But your cooperation will make things easier.”

Fear clawed through Felix’s chest, and he broke into a sweat as he tried to imagine what would happen. The only way he could see it ending was with Jeongin buried in the ground. “They’re going to kill you,” he shook his head in refusal. “I can’t – I won’t let that happen.”

“They’re not going to hurt me.” He said it with so much confidence that it gave Felix pause. How could he be so sure of himself? “Just trust me, Felix. Trust me to make things better for you.”

**Campsdrift Market**

It wasn’t Hyunjin’s first time at a market like this. But it was his first time being at a market that early. People were still pushing carts around and setting up items on hand-stitched blankets. From where he was perched on the top of a hill with Seungmin and Jisung, he was poised well enough to see the movement below. While some seemed enthusiastic, others seemed slightly more lethargic, unable to unstick their limbs from the morning chill. 

“What – what exactly do you want me to do here?” Jisung questioned, his gulp audible as he surveyed the scene below. 

Seungmin lounged casually between them as if he was just there to enjoy the scenery. After a few aggravating seconds where Hyunjin had to resist the urge to shake the answer out of him, Seungmin said, “Do you see everyone down there?”

Jisung arched a brow, but Hyunjin answered first, “He’s not blind.”

“I want you to kill everyone down there.”

Seungmin hummed, blatantly ignoring the shock with which Hyunjin and Jisung were staring at him.

“Seungmin,” Hyunjin began, “I—”

“Make it quick and clean,” Seungmin drawled. “I need to see what you can do.”

Jisung remained frozen in place, “There are innocent people down there.”

Seungmin laughed, “There are no  _ innocent _ people anymore. There are people who do what needs to be done to survive, and those too weak,” he gave Hyunjin a snide glance that made him bristle, “to do what’s needed. And if you’re too weak, well…” he shrugged. “Do you even deserve to live?”

Hyunjin grimaced. Had he really allowed Seungmin’s tongue into his mouth a few hours ago? He must’ve been desperate. But that wasn’t going to happen again. Definitely not.

“Don’t do this,” Hyunjin pleaded with Seungmin, his voice small as he watched Jisung clamber down the hill. He didn’t know what was worse – that Jisung was about to attempt slaughtering no less than thirty people, or that he would likely be killed in the process.

“ _ I’m _ not doing anything.”

Hyunjin put all of his loathing into the glare he sent Seungmin’s way. “Why the hell are you like this? Were you always like this?”

Seungmin chewed slowly on a hunk of stale bread as if he was seriously contemplating his answer. After a gulp of water, he answered, “No, I wasn’t.” He met Hyunjin’s eyes with a thoughtful stare, “Do you prefer your old self? The person you were before all this shit? The life you had back then?”

Hyunjin didn’t even have to think about it, “Of course I do. I was  _ happy _ . Everything was perfect.”

Seungmin sighed and shook his head, a wry smile forming on his lips, “That explains a lot.”

Hyunjin cocked a brow at him, “What does it explain?” If Seungmin was just going to spew some bullshit about how weak he was…

“It explains why you’ll never understand me.”

Hyunjin stared in surprise. Seungmin sounded almost… wistful. Disappointed, even. 

“The show is starting,” Seungmin rubbed his hands together in anticipation just as a scream tore through the air. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you have a nice day/night 💗💗💗💗💗

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading 💕💕💕💕 comments and kudos are always appreciated 💗 please take care 💕  
> Twitter   
> CuriousCat


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